


Sunrise

by sablier_bloque



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablier_bloque/pseuds/sablier_bloque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent has accepted his destiny as Superman, and Lex Luthor is working toward his goal to become leader of the free world. Their past and positions have put them at odds for years, but the Metropolis Journalist and the Kansas Politician must rendezvous eventually. And Fate just won’t let them forget the days when they were just Clark and Lex in Smallville.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by tmelange

Lex still remembers the first time he saw Clark Kent in that ridiculous getup. How all of Metropolis doesn’t laugh every time they see him is completely beyond his comprehension. Yet, the initial view of the red and yellow symbol on his chest resurrected many memories that were better left in the hidden recesses of his mind: the same Kryptonian marking on Kara’s bracelet, of course. There are also the drawings of S-shaped scrawl on Naman’s chest from the cave walls, and _ha_ , the curved snake on the breastplate of Alexander the Great.

His first glimpse at _Superman_ was a year ago, and as much as Lex still holds contempt for Clark for never trusting him, he can’t look at that damned emblem on the Kryptonian’s chest without being reminded of how things used to be. It only lasts for a moment though, and he knows that no one notices the slight change in visage and posture before the Luthor mask reemerges.

But the Clark Kent before him today is wearing his other costume – tacky tie, suit coat a little too long in the arms, and dark-rimmed glasses that have probably never been in style. They fall slightly on his nose and Clark pushes them up with his middle and index fingers, while his other hand holds a recording device. His large frame looks cramped in the midst of the dozens of reporters surrounding him. Lex is surprised to see him, since this is the press conference announcing that he is running for US Senate, and Clark tends to avoid the conferences that take place at LexCorp. Though Lex thanks whatever deity who is blind enough to smile upon him that the ever obnoxious Lois Lane didn’t tag along.

As Adam, his top public relations consultant, answers the last of the introductory questions, Lex absently runs his thumb along the two buttons of his wool suit coat to assure that it is buttoned and walks to the podium.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, smiling. “I’ll start taking questions now.” Hands go up and shouts erupt and he points to one of the few familiar faces in the crowd. “Ms. Rice?”

There are the expected questions: _What are your main policies? What change will you bring to Kansas? Will running as an Independent hurt your chances in this primarily Republican state? Etc._ Each is answered with a nod, a smile, and a politically correct answer. He is sure he sounds sincere.

Hands go up again and he is surprised to see Clark’s hand among the others.

“Mr. Kent?”

“After losing the State Senate race in 2004, what made you decide to jump to the US Senate?”

It is a low jab – below the belt – but not hard enough to actually hurt. It is a question he would expect from Clark Kent, former friend, but not Clark Kent, journalist notorious for writing human-interest stories and letting Lois Lane play Bad Cop in the interview process.

Again: nod, smile, politically correct answer.

“Six years later, I have gained more experience not only in this state, but in the country and around the globe.” Time for good PR and a little jab of his own. “Jonathan Kent was a good man. No one would have beaten him. I’m glad to have truly known him before he passed, and I look forward to working with his wife, Martha Kent, to represent Kansas in the US Senate.”

Lex knows that mentioning his family for the purpose of good press won’t exactly make Clark a happy camper. Lex looks at him and sees the fury burning behind his glasses. He can almost hear the “How-dare-he” questions screaming in his mind and feel the hand Clark is imagining around his neck. Oh, the next meeting with Superman _will_ be extra special.

“Thank you for your time,” Lex says before flashing a smile and exiting with Mercy on his heels.

///

Lex steps out onto the balcony of his penthouse, brandy in one hand and his cell phone in the other. His suit coat was discarded long ago, and his deep blue tie is loosened around his neck. Adam is on the other end discussing the announcement.

“Obviously, we won’t have polls until tomorrow, but the press has been good so far. And not just local press – your position in the business world is making this national news.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lex states, taking a few steps towards the right side of the balcony.

“Yes, sir. Becoming a household name this early in the game will definitely help you when you eventually run for President.”

Lex smirks at the thought, savoring it in his mind a moment before speaking.

“Call me tomorrow about the polls.”

“Yes, sir. Have a good evening.”

Lex slides the phone into the left pocket of his pants and leans slightly on the railing.

“I was wondering why you sold _The Planet_.”

A gasp of surprise threatens to escape his lips as he turns to face Superman hovering a foot above the balcony floor, arms crossed against his chest. Lex is shocked to see him _here_. Nothing Lex has done in the past, and Superman has foiled many of his more devious plans in the last year, has merited a trip to his home. He takes a step forward and thrusts a hand into his pocket.

“Well, Superman,” God, he feels ridiculous saying that and Lex hasn’t felt ridiculous in years, “ _Clark_ , as a politician, owning the press lacks the subtly of simply paying them off.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually running,” Clark says while lowering himself to the ground. It’s windy, and his cape lifts and flows with the invisible currents.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not like you actually care about any of your so-called policies and issues.”

“Of course not. Most politicians don’t. It’s about power.”

“Which you already have in spades.”

It is true and Lex knows that, but what could be greater than sitting in the Oval Office? Oh, the world would be his then. Representing Kansas is just a stepping-stone.

Lex turns back around to face the city.

“Clark, is there a reason that you’re here?” He hears footsteps as Clark moves closer to address him. The bottom of his cape brushes against Lex’s leg.

“What are you planning on doing about the Solon Project?”

Damn it, how does Clark find out these things? It’s still in blueprint stages – mostly trial and error because the idea is there but the product isn’t quite working. He seriously needs to reevaluate his employees.

“What do you mean?” Lex asks, giving a small smile.

“How do you expect to fund a project that is creating kryptonite-based biological weapons while you’re running for Senator?”

“Don’t worry, Clark, the government is funding it. LexCorp is just doing the dirty work.”

“Bullshit.”

Lex laughs.

“Such language, Superman. The government can have them if the price is right.”

Clark looks at him sadly, his anger from earlier still present in his eyes.

“God help us if you actually do take the Oval Office.”

Lex takes a sip of brandy.

“Who needs God,” he asks, laying a hand on Clark’s shoulder, “when we have our spandex savior right here?”

Clark shifts his weight in discomfort then rises swiftly, making Lex’s hand drop forcefully, and disappears in a colorful blur.

///

Lex should be in a good mood this morning. It is only one day after his Senatorial announcement, and he is four points ahead of George Kudlow in the polls. LexCorp stock is up three percent.

But Clark’s visit to his penthouse has left a bad taste in his mouth. He has been thinking about it since last night, over-thinking it, turning it over and over in his mind. He’s mad at himself, and he can’t even remember the last time that happened, because Clark hasn’t been in his thoughts this much since Clark was still in high school.

The pieces just don’t fit together. Was he flying by and just happened to see Lex standing there? Was it planned? Why tell Lex that he knows about the Solon Project when, throughout the course of the past year, Superman has simply raided and destroyed any of Lex’s projects that he saw fit? Not to mention that even though Clark seemed upset, Lex expected a more hostile approach than what he received after the incident at the press conference.

Lex traces the outline of the desk phone with his left index finger, forehead wrinkled in contemplation. He takes a deep breath, and he reaches for the phone to dial his secretary.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. Worst of all, he doesn’t know why he’s doing this.

“Alice, cancel whatever I have for 11:30. Call Perry White and tell him to send over Clark Kent to do an interview. Make sure you tell him it’s exclusive.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Yeah, tell him that Lois Lane is explicitly not invited.”

///

Lex isn’t surprised to see the bewildered look on Clark’s face when Alice shows him into his office. Lex stands and smiles.

“Clark, it’s good to see you.” He extends his hand to shake Clark’s, knowing that he will have to greet Lex in the traditional way since Alice is standing there. _“I’m here to burn your 23 million dollar project to the ground with my heat vision”_ just won’t cut it.

“Lex,” he says curtly, shaking his hand and then dropping it quickly.

Lex gestures his hand toward the chair, suggesting that he and Clark should sit, while Alice closes the door. The two men look at each other in silence.

“What questions do you have for me?”

“Since I had to drop the story I was working on twenty minutes ago to rush over here, I didn’t exactly have time to brainstorm.”

“Oh, come now, Clark. You’re… fast.” He lets the innuendo sink in. “You had at least… 19 minutes to prepare?”

Clark visibly bristles.

“Why did you ask me here?”

“I don’t think that’s the question that Metropolis is dying to have answered.”

“Lois would have preferred to inter—”

“No, thanks. I’ve had enough of Lois’ journalism to last me a long while.”

It is silent for a moment while Lex waits for Clark to turn questions over in his head. Despite the interviewee, this is a _huge_ story, and he knows that Clark knows that. Clark has to make this exclusive worth the newsprint on which it will be printed. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an electronic recorder, turning it on and setting it on the desk.

“Kudlow has 12 years of experience in the US Senate under his belt,” Clark begins, still forming the question as he speaks. “What do you have to offer Kansas, and the United States for that matter, that Kudlow doesn’t?”

“New ideas. Americans are tired of the old Washington. Kudlow has voted for things that America is clearly against. It is time for Kansas’ beliefs and values to be reflected in the Senate.”

“What do you think of—” Clark stops abruptly, obviously listening to something.

“I – I,” Clark stands and presses the off switch of the recorder. “I have to go. There’s an earthquake near LA. It’s really bad.”

Lex stands up to tell him to go, but is stopped by a quick blur and the sound of air rushing. Clark’s clothes are in a pile on the floor, and he is clad in his red and blue monstrosity, cape and all. He moves towards the window, looking to see which, if any, are open. Lex walks to one on the far left side of the office and opens it for him. Clark moves halfway out of the opening before turning around sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he shrugs.

Lex nods, and Clark is gone in an instant, leaving Lex to stare at the open window alone.

Well, that wasn’t how Lex expected the meeting to go, or at least how he hoped it would go.

He retrieves the clothes on the floor and hangs them up in his coat closet, guessing that Clark will be by later today or tomorrow to finish the interview. After switching on the news and muting it, he sits down at his desk and opens his laptop. His eyes fall on the recorder that Clark left, and he hesitantly grabs it before hitting play.

 _”Kudlow has 12 years of experience in the US Senate—”_

Lex hits the back button and hears Clark introducing the sound segment. _“This is the press conference at LexCorp held to announce Lex Luthor’s plan to run for US Senate.”_ Lex can’t remember ever hearing Clark use his full name, and it sounds strange and unpleasant to his ears. He’s always called him _Lex_ , whether it be in laughter, or anger, or sadness. _Lex Luthor_ seems too… distant.

He hits the back button again and recognizes Lois this time. _”Merry Christmas, Smallville! I know you say you_ like _writing things down, but you look ridiculous at press conferences with a pad in your hand when every other reporter is smart enough to have a recorder. And because it is a gift, I know that you will use it since you’ll feel obligated to. You’ll thank me one day, though, when you realize you can’t live without it! You know that I can’t – that and coffee. Which you owe me at least a month’s worth for giving you that FEMA corruption story. Anyways, Merry Christmas!”_

Lois is obviously unaware of Clark’s history of returning gifts. Though Lex supposes that a recording device isn’t too extravagant to keep… unlike a truck, which he finally just gave to the groundskeeper at the mansion two years ago.

He turns the recorder off and tosses it in the top right drawer of the desk. Red and blue on the TV catches his eye, and there is Superman, rescuing people from vehicles submerged underwater due to a collapsing bridge.

Seeing Superman, _Clark_ , laying a young man’s body upon the shore sends a sharp blow to Lex’s chest. It is too familiar, though the details have always been fuzzy. At least Lex now knows that he _did_ hit Clark – he didn’t just imagine it. But if that had not been Clark, if it had been just an average 15-year-old boy, he would have been killed. In the past three years, Lex had killed, had had people killed, yet that thought sits cold in his stomach, making him queasy.

He shakes his head. “Lex Luthor” and “remorse” don’t belong in the same sentence, and they haven’t in a long, long time.

///

Lex has had CNN on all day. On his lunch, in-between meetings, he sits perched in front of the television – watching clip after clip of the destruction in LA. About every half hour, Superman is mentioned or shown on the screen – pulling people out of buildings, holding up bridges, etc. He is fascinating, and Lex just can’t get enough.

That same selflessness that drew him to Clark the farm boy is once again starting to draw him to Superman. Even now, years later, Clark remains good, and yes, naïve, despite the evils to which he has been exposed. Including himself. He doesn’t understand it; it’s a puzzle to him – the only puzzle left now that he knows Clark’s infamous secret.

Lex is at the penthouse now, sitting on the floor in front of the leather sofa in the sitting room. Plans for future speeches, details of his policies, and the main issues in Kansas’ courtrooms are sprawled before him, along with his laptop and briefcase.

Lex’s phone rings and he reaches up to the coffee table to retrieve it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Luthor,” Mercy says, annoyance creeping into her voice, “there is a Clark Kent downstairs insistent on coming up.”

This is definitely unexpected.

“Bring him up.”

He doesn’t admit to being excited, but Clark is here, and not barging in as Superman either. He’s coming as Clark Kent. That has to attest to something.

He forces himself to stay seated instead of meeting his visitor at the elevator. He hasn’t cared about Clark in a long, long time and it wouldn’t work for his Lex Persona to meet Clark at the door like a lonely puppy.

The familiar ding of the elevator reaches his ears and Mercy is leading Clark into the sitting area seconds later. She is noticeably unhappy that Lex is letting a _reporter_ into his personal home, and she is not hiding her feelings on the matter. She gives Lex a steely glare, before turning around to head downstairs.

Clark looks exhausted. His shoulders are slightly hunched, shaded circles press under his eyes, and his hair is all kinds of messy. But this is _his_ Clark – the Clark of Smallville: faded jeans, wrinkled red t-shirt, and worn work boots. No Superman in tights, no journalist with glasses. That thought alone makes Lex happier than he cares to admit.

“Clark, are you all right?” He sounds sincere and he _is_ sincere. He wants Clark to notice.

“Yeah,” Clark whispers, hands balled into his pockets, “just… today was rough.”

Lex just nods, wanting to say, “I know,” but not wanting to make it obvious that he has been following his every move all afternoon.

“I, uh, I came by to finish the interview?” The question of his tone asks Lex for permission.

“Sure, have a seat. Let me clean this up first.” He kneels to scoop up the papers into neat piles and settles them all into his briefcase. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Yes,” he gives a small but tired smile, “to both.”

“We’ll get something to eat in the kitchen.” He walks towards the kitchen, hearing Clark fall into step behind him. Going to the refrigerator without turning on the light, he squints to adjust his eyes to the brightness coming from the open fridge door. “Pasta?”

“That’s fine.” Lex throws Clark a water bottle before heating up leftover rigatoni in the microwave. Clark is sitting on a barstool at the island and Lex joins him on the other side.

“You left your recorder at the office.”

“That’s okay. I prefer writing anyways.” Lex knows that too, of course. Lex has always known things before Clark told him, because when Lex is interested, he is interested, always needing to know more and more.

He pulls the food out of the microwave and hands it to Clark with a fork. Clark probably hasn’t eaten since this morning with the way he attacks the noodles. It’s surreal being in the kitchen and watching Clark eat – how many times have they done this in Smallville, raiding the kitchen at midnight because Clark’s stomach would always growl in the middle of a game of pool?

Clark finishes within minutes – not surprising in the least. Lex sets Clark’s plate in the sink before walking towards the living room.

“Where were we?” he asks, calling over his shoulder and motioning Clark to follow him.

“Yes, um…” Lex hears a brush of fabric and the crinkle of paper as Clark readies himself to jot down answers.

“You were asking me what I thought about something or another,” Lex reminds him. Clark sits first on the long, black sofa and Lex sits on the other side of it, though there is at least three feet between them.

“I was going to ask…” he trails off, looking almost sheepishly at him and Lex swears he sees a slight rose tint on his cheeks.

“What?”

“What do you – What do you think of Superman?”

Lex was expecting _”What do you think of alternative fuel sources?_ not _What do you think of Superman?_ If Clark had asked this question two days ago, he would have said that he is a joke, a nuisance – a vigilante of sorts – who should let law and order provide justice. Now though – now, after once again having Clark so close he can touch him and watching him save countless lives in LA all day, he is unsure of how to answer. He _hates_ Superman – hates everything that he stands for – yet, he doesn’t. Can’t make himself say it anymore. And what an interesting paradox that it makes Lex hate him even more.

“I think that…” he looks at Clark, who looks more alive now with food in his belly, though his hair is beyond the hope of a comb. Clark looks back at him expectantly. “I think that many citizens of Kansas – _America_ – including me, have him to thank for their lives.” He leans in slightly to add icing on the cake, though it’s truthful icing, nonetheless. “The world would be a darker place without him.”

Clark knows Lex better than anyone ever has – even now when fortress walls stand between them. The look on his face of surprise and even a smidge of hope tells Lex that he knows his words are truthful.

“You can’t really mean –” Clark stops himself, confusion written all over his face. “You hate him… _me_ ,” Clark corrects. Lex has thought of Clark and Superman as separate entities almost since the beginning – the voice, the demeanor, the way that Superman practically struts around – it’s so unlike the farm boy who used to be his best friend. Yet is Clark’s statement a slip up from pretending his alter ego isn’t Superman, or has he gotten to the point where he actually believes it?

Lex takes the pen out of Clark’s hand to show him that this is off the record – this is just between them.

“I do hate Superman. I hate that fucking costume, and I hate seeing him on the six o’clock news getting a kitten out of a tree. I hate that there are days like today when he really makes a difference in the world. Yet, despite it all, I don’t hate _you_ , Clark, and as much as you and I don’t like to think so, you’re both of those people.”

 _Clark is quiet for a moment, stretching his leg out slightly on the couch._

 _“You hate my costume?” He sounds hurt but there’s a genuine, albeit small, grin, and God – Lex hasn’t seen that directed towards him in such a long time._

 _“It’s atrocious.” Lex feels himself smiling. “You don’t know how blinding that thing is in the sunlight.” Clark gives a small chuckle._

 _“Helping people in secret, trying to run out before they saw me…” he shakes his head, suddenly serious in tone. “I had to come up with a way to use my powers openly. I didn’t want to hide that part of me anymore.” Clark grins again before continuing. “All of our talks about Warrior Angel and Nietzsche came to the rescue.”_

 _“I’m so glad that I influenced you so.”_

 _“You’re the first person that I ever helped like that,” Clark states as if that influenced him more than any other factor. It makes no sense to Lex, but Clark’s logic rarely does._

 _It’s quiet for a moment, and he looks at Clark, who is obviously lost in thoughts and memories, and he likes thinking that they’re probably about him. Glancing to the pen in his hand, he remembers that Clark is here for an interview, not for nostalgia, and hands it back to him. A quick brush of fingertips against Lex’s knuckles before grabbing the pen, and damn, it feels good to be back here._

 _///_

 _Two days later, Clark Kent’s exclusive interview with Lex Luthor graces the front page of the _Daily Planet_. Lex is up five points in the polls, and he has a charity event to attend this evening that Alex assures him should boost him up another point. The gala will also allow him to discuss LexCorp’s latest projects with James Olin. _

Olin, a crime boss in Gotham, often did business with LuthorCorp when Lionel was still alive. He has been reluctant to deal with Lex – he only gets into his business bed with people he either trusts or can blackmail, but the Solon Project has finally caught Olin’s attention. Having Olin on his side would do wonders for the company, as well as his campaign as long as it’s swept under the rug.

Lex hasn’t seen Clark since he left the penthouse the night of the interview at 2 am. The interview was constantly interrupted by memories and personal questions and a few fingers pointed in blame. But it was good – leaving Lex with a sweet aching inside, though unsatisfying, like Edmund Pevensie and his Turkish delight.

Mercy knocks on his bedroom door as Lex finishes the knot of his bowtie.

“Mr. Luthor? The list you requested.”

“Thank you. Have the car ready in five.”

“Yes sir,” she replies, handing over a manila file folder before exiting the room. Lex scans the list of press expected to attend the charity event – searching for Clark’s name. Lex curses under his breath when he sees that Lois Lane is listed as the Planet’s representative for the evening. If she realizes who Olin is, Lex won’t have a moment’s peace all evening.

After a quick call to Alice, Lex gets Clark’s cell number. It’s embarrassing, but he still has the Kent Farm number on his phone after all of these years. He chalks it up to never losing a contact – whether business or personal – instead of sentimentality. But Clark owning a cell phone is new to the game, and Lex hasn’t needed to call – wanted to call – Clark in a long, long time.

Two Rings.

“Clark Kent.” He’s never heard Clark answer the phone like that, but his number is restricted and as far as Clark knows, this is a business call.

“Are you going to the gala tonight?”

“Lex?”

“The one and only. Are you going?”

“No, Lois is going,” Clark says. Lex makes a sound of disgust.

“Can’t you go instead of her?”

“No, I’m working.”

“This is work… and more your style too. Charity events aren’t up Lane’s alley.”

“I’m _working_ ,” Clark emphasizes the last word, willing Lex to realize his more important task of the evening.

“Oh,” he replies. “Should I look forward to a destroyed warehouse in the morning? Imprisoned employees?”

“Not that I know of.” Lex can almost hear the grin in Clark’s voice. Could it be possible that Clark enjoys their cat and mouse games as much as he does? He dismisses the thought as soon as it is asked – Clark is too serious about his justice for that. Superman is an obligation to him, not a hobby.

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Lex arrives at the gala fifteen minutes later – all smiles for reporters and photographers and answering a few questions here and there, purposefully moving around Lane’s line of sight. Entering the ballroom, he subtly scans the room for Olin, knowing that Mercy is doing the same four steps behind him.

He normally moves very little at these events, because people often come to him to mingle and get their names into his business pool. But Lex is on a mission tonight and he is working the floor – constantly searching for Olin. Metropolis elite, musicians and actors, even Excelsior alumni are there including Oliver Queen and a slightly ruffled Bruce Wayne. No Olin.

The dinner is about to start, and the seat next to him – Olin’s seat – is empty. A pointed glare to Mercy, and she is off to find his whereabouts. Anger is starting to seep into his skin, but he’s trying to be optimistic, because important men are often late. He knows that.

Metropolis’ mayor is on the stage, thanking everyone for attending, and he feels Mercy shift behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder, and leaning to speak into his ear.

“The FBI, with the help of Superman and Batman, arrested Olin an hour ago.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. _Son of a bitch._ Lex takes a shaky breath and leaves the table without excusing himself to the others sitting down. “Car. Now,” he snaps to Mercy. She’s efficient as always because the limo is waiting for him when he arrives. She sits across from him and he looks to her for an explanation.

“Olin was running a human trafficking ring,” Mercy explains. “Labor here in Kansas and sex in Jersey.”

Lex is more surprised than he cares to admit. He thought he knew all of Olin’s dirt, and yet this is a huge skeleton to which Lex was completely blind. Trafficking isn’t exactly Lex’s cup of tea – too messy and if he’s honest with himself, he finds it rather disgusting despite his lack of moral qualms.

“And Superman’s involvement?”

“That’s mostly hush-hush at the moment, but I believe that Superman and Batman reeled him in and the cops picked him up.”

Clark Fucking Kent. Oh, the lead-lined boxes of Kryptonite in his desk and nightstand and coffee table are calling to him. Clark was simply doing his job, but logic is lost on Lex tonight. Olin would have secured his ticket to power and Clark stripped that away from him.

He’s out of his car and into his penthouse as quickly as the elevator will allow, striding across to open the balcony doors.

“Superman!” he yells as his foot crosses the threshold. His hands are balled into fists as he paces to calm himself. “Superman!” He stops, arms crossed, and looks to the sky to see if he’ll actually come and wondering why he didn’t just give Clark a call.

A whoosh of air and Clark is floating in front of him on the other side of the balcony railing.

“Are you okay?” Clark asks, obviously confused as to why Lex called for Superman. He’s dressed for the part too; ready to save damsels, or Lexes, in distress.

“No, I’m not fucking okay.” Clark’s gaze intensifies and Lex realizes that he’s doing that creepy X-Ray thing. “Stop it. I’m not hurt.”

Clark’s posture relaxes and he moves over the railing to step onto the balcony, moving closer to Lex.

“What is it?”

“You turned in Olin,” Lex responds.

“Of course I did.”

“Clark, he was my –”

“He was running a billion-dollar-a-year trafficking ring. He had to be stopped.” True, but damn it, it just isn’t fair. He’s seconds away from stomping his feet in defiance like he did when he was five and Daddy wouldn’t let him play in his office.

“You should have let the Feds handle it.”

“They needed our help.”

“Fuck, Clark. What do you think they did before vigilantes in tights started running around?” His voice is raising and he’s backing Clark up against the wall simply with a pointed finger. If he took the time to think about it, it is a pretty comical image – Invincible Kryptonian backed into a corner by a mere human; and no Kryptonite in sight.

No answer from Superman and Lex is suddenly aware that he is _close_ to Clark, closer than he’s been in years, and the only thing separating them is his index finger pointing into Clark’s chest. He’s still mad, still burning, and he sees Clark’s unhappiness in his furrowed brows, but his finger slides up, allowing his palm and other fingers to lie flat on his chest.

Clark’s eyes widen nervously and, damn, Lex has pictured that look many times lying awake in his empty mansion, hand around his cock and imagining their hypothetical first time over and over again. It’s working its magic again, because he’s half hard just by the look on Clark’s face.

“Lex?” Clark is anxious and scared, but Jesus, his name sounds so good on his tongue. Lex leans forwards, his lips half an inch away from Clark’s and he inhales the breath that Clark shallowly frees. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s wanted it for so fucking long, though it’s been buried away in his minds for years because it hurt too fucking badly to meditate on when Clark began to hate everything Luthor.

Clark licks his lips anxiously and the very tip of it hits Lex’s mouth and he has to stifles a groan. Their mouths meet softly and fuck, Clark whimpers, _whimpers_ , and it’s Lex’s undoing. Inhibitions and worries about pushing Clark too far go out the window with the tongue he pushes in Clark’s mouth, Lex’s hand sliding up his chest and cupping the back of his neck. Clark’s arm go around him and he can’t fucking believe it; he actually wants it. But he’s got to be sure, has to know –

“Clark?” he whispers, his lips moving down Clark’s jaw and to his throat, his tongue softly licking the pulse under his skin.

“Yeah?”

“Have to know…” He moves his other hand under the cape and grabs Clark’s ass to bring their hips together so that Lex’s erection brushes his thigh, and _yes_ , Clark is hard too. “Have to know you want it.” Clark nods his answer, but damn it, Lex is mad tonight and he’s’ not letting Clark be shy. He pulls away from Clark’s neck and sees him with his head thrown back against the wall; eyes closed and lashes against his cheeks. “Look at me. Tell me you want this.” Lex’s hand moves from Clark’s ass and presses against the bulge in his suit. “Tell me you want me.” He traces the outline of the erection with his fingers, and he hears Clark suck in a breath.

“I used to,” Clark admits, and he’s arching into Lex’s touch.

“And now?” Lex counters, moving his hand up to Clark’s face, fingers brushing against a very slight five o’clock shadow. Clark shakes his head.

“Superman can’t want Lex Luthor.”

“This isn’t about Superman and Lex Luthor. They aren’t even _real_ , Clark. They’re make-believe figures contrived to entertain the public eye.” He kisses Clark on the cheek, and looks back into his eyes. “Remember years ago… when we were just Clark and Lex?”

“We can’t just go back to that, Lex. Too much has –”

“—Happened, I know. But maybe,” he takes Clark’s hand from his back and entwines it with his own, “Maybe we can find the middle ground – the spot between Superman and Luthor and Clark and Lex.” He’s hopeful for the first time in years, and it feels soothing in his gut – Clark is here and he is almost his.

Clark leans away from the wall, their hands still together, and hesitantly takes a couple of steps toward the door. He stops and faces Lex, body language asking if they are actually doing this. Lex takes the cue and leads him inside, weaving their way to his bedroom. Lex lets go of his hand to shut the door, and Clark moves about the room, surveying it like a reporter does – trying to memorize every nook and cranny to beef up a current story or to start a new one. But it’s funny as hell, because Clark’s got a tent in the front of his primary-colored spandex.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?” He turns around and smiles.

“Please take that… _thing_ off,” he says, crossing the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. Clark feigns grief but then smiles again.

“Help me,” Clark whispers, serious again; voice filled with need, and Lex nods in response. He stands in front of Lex and touches his cheek while Lex brings his hands to Clark’s hips. Lex is a fucking criminal mastermind, but the suit seems seamless and he doesn’t know where to start.

“Clark, I don’t know how…” he admits, and then hands cover his and guide him to impossibly small clasps and to peel off the red and the blue ensemble. Last slide of fabric and Clark is naked before him, gorgeous; hard cock inches from Lex. Clark allows him to trace the lines of his body – up his chest, fingertips sliding over nipples – hands still resting on his, but he’s no longer leading. His skin is just so smooth – unmarred by scars or time, and Lex just can’t get enough. Feels so fucking good. His fingers are hungry for what they’ve been longing for since he saw Clark tied to that post in the cornfield, but his mouth needs to know Clark this way too.

Lex bends and flicks his tongue against the head of his cock, tasting a hint of pre-come, and Clark makes a delicious guttural noise that goes straight to the erection pressing against his pants. His hand moves to the base of Clark’s cock and his mouth covers the tip, slowly sliding down to meet his hand. Clark arches into his mouth, making sweet noises and tiny groans while Lex sets a slow rhythm; cock smooth and heavy on his tongue.

“ _Lex_.” Jesus, nothing has ever sounded better than his name on Clark’s lips. Clark’s hand moves to his head, fingering the small bump where spine and skull meet, but he’s still not leading. No, he’s letting Lex be in charge because he knows Lex needs this – needs this control of Clark and Superman because of their bitter past.

He moves faster, sucks harder, letting a little teeth scrape against the skin, and the sounds Clark is making are fucking delicious. He relaxes his throat, taking him farther, but Clark is pulling back, pushing him away slightly. Clark’s fingers undo his tie and pull it from his neck, landing softly on the floor.

“Want to touch you.” He pushes the jacket from Lex’s shoulders.

“You sure?” Lex asks, shrugging out of the arms. It’s one thing to be touched, but it’s another thing to return the favor, and his pulse increases at the mere thought of Clark’s fingers on his skin.

“Yes,” he nods and his hands move to the button at Lex’s throat. Lex is suddenly tired of the fabric separating them, tired of the ache in his too-tight slacks, and he’s desperate to feel Clark against him.

“ _Hurry_ , Clark. Need you now.” Soft kiss and brush of air and fabric, and Lex is naked in the second it takes him to look down. He’s glad that Clark took the hint; though he’s pretty sure that poor shirt lost every single button.

His foot braces on the edge of the bed and he kicks back to lie down. Clark crawls over him, bending to kiss him, and their lips meet the moment their cocks slide together, eliciting groans from both of them.

Clark’s tongue is sweet against his own, feeling so good in the sliding exchange that’s created. His hands are in Clark’s hair, catching on the silky curls and twining them around his fingers. And again, Clark is making such sweet pants and moans, so surprisingly uninhibited, and Lex can’t help but think what Clark would sound like if he—

“I want you to fuck me,” Lex admits, and damn, his face must mirror Clark’s because he’s shocked as hell that that slipped through his filter. Lex never really pictured this. He was always doing the fucking in his fantasies – his hand curled around his cock, imagining it slick with lube, moving in and out of Clark.

“I –” There’s no doubt that Clark is scared as fuck. Lex is pretty sure he’s never done this before, and the possibility that he has ignites sparks of jealousy in his chest. He looks up at the man above him, slight sheen from sweat, dilated pupils, full lips parted and panting, and damn it, the thought of Batman or the Green Arrow touching his Clark makes him sick.

“Clark, have you done this before?” He brushes Clark’s cheek softly with his left hand.

“Sex?”

“With another guy.”

“No,” Clark answers, shaking his head. He’s blushing like he used to when he caught Lex just looking at him during lazy afternoons in the loft, and Lex is getting nostalgic again.

Lex pulls his head down for kiss, catching Clark’s bottom lip with his teeth when they part. He breathes into Clark’s ear, tonguing the lobe, and Clark shudders against him.

“I’ll show you,” he whispers, voice husky even to his own ears, and he reaches between them to tug on Clark’s cock.

He almost tells Clark to get the lube out of the nightstand drawer, but he doesn’t think that he would appreciate the Lead Box O’ Kryptonite sitting next to it. So he reaches over to get it himself, and Clark sits up to allow him room. He plops the bottle in Clark’s hand, and Clark’s staring at it intently, masked fear in his eyes, and Lex tries not to grin.

Lex settles into the bed on his back, legs spread, and Clark instinctually moves between them with nervous hunger written on his face.

“Here.” Lex holds his palm out and Clark hands him the bottle. He takes Clark’s hand in his, coating the fingers with the liquid, and guides them to his hole. Clark is finally brave enough to try this on his own, and he pushes his index finger in slowly. Lex groans at the intrusion, his right hand curled around Clark’s bicep and the other moving towards his own cock. He’s stroking Lex’s hole in unison with Lex’s stroke on his cock, and Clark bites his lip in arousal.

“Like that?” Lex breathes and Clark gives a pained moan.

“Yeah.”

“Another finger.” Bigger stretch and brush against prostate and Lex arches against Clark’s fingers. He gets a smile at his reaction, and Clark does it again. Just so good. “Another.” Hurts a little now, and Clark’s moving faster, in and out, in and out, and Lex doesn’t even care if he’s ready or not, he needs Clark now. He slicks Clark’s cock with lube while Clark’s fingers are still in him, and Lex barely gets out the “Ready” from his lips. Clark removes his fingers and presses his cock against the rim of the hole, hesitant to continue.

“Come on, Clark.” He reaches up to grip Clark’s biceps and pulls him closer. Slow, slow push, and Lex exhales to counter the burning intrusion.

“Lex?” Sweet and worried and trying to hide his own satisfaction to make sure that Lex is all right.

“I’m okay,” Lex assures. “Just… slow, k?” Clark nods and pushes deeper, eyes closing in pleasure. Lex can’t get over how beautiful and naïve he looks while simultaneously debauching him.

“Feels so good, “ Clark groans, and one final thrust leaves his balls against Lex’s ass. Two deep breaths, and Lex nods to Clark to continue. Clark bends down to kiss him before starting a teasing unhurried rhythm, and it’s good, but Lex has waited too fucking long for this to be teased.

“Clark,” he moans. “Need you now. Harder.” Clark obeys and he’s moving faster, and the world has narrowed to the two of them, nothing on their minds except each other and this moment and how good this is going to be.

Clark’s dick is brushing his prostate, and he’s close now, warmth coiling in his stomach, and Clark knows, because he curls his hand around Lex’s cock and jerks him to release. Clark’s name is on his lips as hot spurts fall onto his stomach, and Clark whines at the sight. Lex brings Clark down for a kiss, their tongues sliding together, before his neck arches back and he comes inside of Lex, shivering and groaning.

Clark falls on top of him, and Lex’s arms go around him to hold him there. He’s heavy but Lex loves the feeling of him pressed full body against him, his softening cock still inside of him.

“Lex,” Clark sighs, and damn, Lex can feel the words that just can’t be said because everything is too fucking fragile now. Soft press of lips against his own, and Clark is pulling out of Lex and moving slightly to the side so that his full weight isn’t fully pressed against him.

No words, just soft kisses, and Lex is sure that’s the only way they can do this right now.

///

Lex wakes up to rain pounding on the window. He’s on his side, chest pushed into Clark’s back, and arms around the warm body in front of him. He lays a palm against Clark’s stomach and traces slow circles with his thumb, eliciting a sigh from Clark, but it doesn’t rouse him.

Before the past couple of days, it had been a while since Lex had thought of Clark fondly… sexually – not since that day they were stuck underground together when he was still married to Lana. For a brief moment, he saw the Clark that used to be his best friend, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. At 2 am the next morning, he was halfway to the Kent farm to try to make amends, but did a U-turn in the middle of the road. He knew that things couldn’t go back to how they were.

But here is Clark – warm in his bed, in his arms, and Lex can’t help but wonder how different things could have been if he’d finish his red-eye drive to the farm.

He won’t admit it, but Lex is scared – he’s too far gone now. He’s too much a Luthor. He’s everything he used to despise in Lionel when he was a 21-year-old kid shipped off to Smallville. If it means having Clark, though, he _wants_ to change. He just doesn’t know if he can.

His hand travels to Clark’s cock, satisfied to feel that it’s hard, and he gives it a slow, firm tug. He repeats the action, and the small whimper that escapes Clark turns Lex inside out. Lex presses an open mouth kiss against Clark’s shoulder before Clark turns around to face him. He grabs Lex’s erection, and they’re jerking each other off like fucking teenagers trying to get off before Mom wakes them up for breakfast – quick, hard, no mercy. No words either, just quiet pants and grunts.

Clark leans in closer, kissing and sucking on Lex’s neck, and fuck, he’s really too old for hickies but he doesn’t care that much. He’s close, and he wants Clark to come right along with him, so he quickens his jerks and cups Clark’s balls with his other hand. That does it, because Clark cries out, pulsing onto Lex’s hand, and the sound alone is enough to send Lex right over the edge with him.

Clark is drawing circles on Lex’s back with his fingertips, and he feels so warm and sated against Clark’s skin. It’s Saturday, and Lex’s plan is to not step foot out of the bedroom the entire day; slow, lazy fucks with a soundtrack of heavy rain, and maybe lots of talking about things they’ve been needing to say for years if they’re up for it.

Clark sits up a bit and freezes.

“Oh, shit!” He flips the covers off and moves to stand up.

“”What?” All last night, this morning, Lex has been expecting Clark to realize what he’s doing, who he’s with, and bolt out in shame. He even dreamed about it. And fuck, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“I have two obits due at 2.”

 _Oh_. Relief doesn’t even begin to cover what he’s feeling.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve got a front page exclusive with Lex Luthor, and you’re still writing obituaries? On a Saturday?”

“It’s for Lois,” he says, moving to find clothes and looking surprised that the only thing he has to wear is his Superman ensemble. “White got mad at her and stuck her on Sunday Obits. I was originally supposed to go to the gala last night, but we’ve been planning this Olin thing for a while now. So I told her I’d switch with her.”

Clark’s putting on his suit and Lex is watching, propped up on one elbow, fascinated by how it all fits together. He always looks rather comical wearing that thing, but right now he looks drowsy and sexed and he’s got a mean case of bed head. He finishes dressing and stands there, awkward posture and eyes glued to the floor. Lex is pretty sure he doesn’t really know how to say goodbye.

“Come here,” Lex says, sitting up and motioning Clark towards him. Clark takes a few steps to close the space between them, and Lex pulls him down for a kiss. It’s short, almost chaste, but that’s okay, because he knows that Clark needs to go.

“Can I see you tonight?” It’s so quiet that Lex barely hears it, and it’s bizarre to get a timid whisper from Superman. The question confirms that last night wasn’t a one-time fuck. A mistake.

“Yeah,” he replies. “We have a lot of thing that we should probably talk about. Dinner?”

“Okay. Where?”

“Chez Jacque? 7:30?”

Clark nods and gives him a bright smile. “I’ll meet you here at 7.”

“Make sure you wear a tie.” Lex pulls Clark down for the one more kiss, and then Clark is gone before Lex can open his eyes.

He lays back on the bed, blanket pooled at his waist and runs over last night in his head. It had been miles better than he ever imagined it could be. He never really spent the time picturing the smoothness of Clark’s tan skin, or the noises… fuck, he’d make millions bottling up Clark’s breathy moans.

There’s a knock on the open door, and Lex opens his eyes, expecting Clark but seeing Mercy.

“Yes?” He closes his eyes again while she enters.

“Please don’t tell me that was Superman I just saw fly off your balcony.”

Mercy has walked in on him fucking a fair share of people, and she has never even blinked an eye at it. But Superman? Well, it is pretty crazy whether you know it’s Clark Kent or not.

“I don’t pay you to keep tabs on my personal life, Mercy.” Except that he does, because every person in his life is always a threat in her eyes, and that’s why she’s so good. “Please tell me you’ve got something important to tell me.”

“I do actually. I just got off the phone with Dr. Petry. It seems they’ve finally made some headway with the project.” Mercy hands him a small stack of papers, still warm from the fax machine, and he sits up to look over them. “The basics? If the Solonia is touched or ingested, the victim is dead within 10 to 14 days – complete organ shutdown – one by one.”

“Any antidote?”

“No. No, it’s too early in the trial-and-error stages for that. Dr. Petry wants perfection before then.”

“Call Alice and tell her to clear some time on my schedule for Monday to meet with Dr. Petry at the lab.” He sets the report on the nightstand. “And call Dr. Petry and tell him to either work on the antidote simultaneously, or to find someone qualified in the field to work on it.”

“He’s at the lab now. Do you want to go by sometime today?” she asks, and Lex is suddenly glad that Clark didn’t stay. He wouldn’t be able to take puppy eyes after he got out of the bed, or the anger once he found out where Lex was going. And yeah, Lex is feeling a tiny bit guilty about continuing the project when Clark, his Clark, is so obviously against it. It’s strange as hell though, because Lex can’t even remember the last time he felt guilty. He’s adamant about finding the antidote though, and he tells himself that that has to make up for something.

“Yes. Tell Dr. Petry we’ll be there in an hour.”

///

Dr. Petry’s palm is sweaty. Lex cannot stand shaking sweaty hands, and he has to force himself to not to wipe his own hand on his pant leg.

It’s still pouring outside, thunder constantly rumbling, and the bottom of his pants are wet. He sets his umbrella against the wall before he follows the doctor into the lab with Mercy on his heels. It’s a large room with a glass cylinder sitting in the middle of it, filled with small vials of powdered green and on an adjacent counter are four mice in separate cages. There are four other technicians in the lab, and while he really couldn’t care less about them, he flashes them his politician smile. Have to keep the polls up.

“I’ve only glanced at the report. What’s the verdict on the testing?” Lex asks.

“Good, good,” Petry replies. “Interesting results, as I’m sure you know by now.” He walks to the counter, motioning Lex over to take a look. Lex has always thought the scientist was rather strange, he was small with a high voice, IQ too high to master standard social skills, but he was more fidgety today than normal.

“Are you okay, Doctor?”

“Yes! Just anxious.

“Each of the mice is in a different stage of the process,” Petry begins. “So far, there seem to be no warning, no sickness until the organs begin to shut down.”

Lex bends closer to look at the first mice when the lights go out, and thunder claps loudly enough to startle him. Mercy’s by his side in an instant, one hand on his back, and he hears her reaching for her gun with her other.

“The switch to the generator should be out here,” the doctor states, turning on a small flashlight a moment later. He opens the door and gasps, stepping back with a hand pressed to his chest. Curiosity drives Lex to go to the door, but Mercy steps in front of him, getting between him and any potential danger.

But he still sees it. A fire. It’s not huge, but it’s growing, and it’s oh, so conveniently blocking their way out of the building. Lex knows that they’re okay; he remembers the plans for the lab. He has to protect his assets and a tiny thing like a fire isn’t going to ruin everything. It doesn’t stop him from being scared though, and takes a deep breath to try to calm himself, shutting the door.

“What is it?” one of the technicians asks.

“A fire,” Lex answers, eliciting a few gasps. “The rest of the warehouse is susceptible to the fire, but the labs themselves can withstand it. So _don’t panic_.

“Mercy, call 911. Dr. Petry, I’m sure that the Solonia doesn’t sit around all night long for some wandering eye to find. Let’s dispose of it before the police arrive, shall we?”

Lex thinks about how easy it would be to call Clark to get them out of their sticky situation, but he can’t. Clark can’t see the Solonia, not with Lex standing next to it as a blaring reminder of the immorality that got between them to begin with. Not to mention the Kryptonite rocks, ore, and powder lying around waiting to bring Superman to his knees.

So he sits on a stool, playing it as cool as possible for the watching eyes, though he knows it doesn’t fool Mercy. She’s on the phone with the dispatcher and Petry is storing the tubes as carefully as time will allow into an emptied box. One of the technicians who’s younger, probably a grad student, starts hyperventilating, head between her knees to try to calm herself.

“We h-have to get out of here,” the girl cries between hard, short breaths, tears streaming down her face.

“I think she might be claustrophobic,” another technician says, going to rub her back, whispering _shhhh_ in her ear.

“The fire department is on their way,” Mercy states, sliding her phone into her pocket, gun still pressed into her other hand. She is as close as Lex as she can be without invading his personal space, and her eyes sweep the room, just waiting for an attack.

“She’s freaking out. We’ve got to do something.”

“There’s nothing we can do until MFD gets here,” she replies, cool irritation dripping from her voice.

The girl’s breathing quickens, gets harder, and Lex expects her to pass out any second. He hopes that she does soon, because he doesn’t know how much more he can take. His watch reads 1:07 and he hopes he can get out of here in the next four hours. He can hear a faint roar from the fire outside, and he silently wills the firemen to get there faster.

“Superman!” she yells, choking on sobs. “Help us please, Superman!” Lex is across the room and his hand is on her mouth before she can yell it again. Stupid, Stupid girl. She doesn’t know… she has no idea what this would do to him.

“Not. Another. Word,” he breathes. He’s about to lose it – animalistic urge to just knock her unconscious so she’ll simply shut up – and he takes a deep breath because he has a reputation to make now. He has a seat waiting for him in DC. “We’re going to move, okay? We’re going to give you as much space as possible. But not another word.”

Lex doesn’t pray – hasn’t prayed since he was a kid – because he makes his own destiny. It’s tempting though, because he needs for Clark to not hear her screams – for Clark to not enter this room filled with his downfall… their downfall.

But he starts to hear a fast rush of air, faster than the storm moving outside, and he knows Superman is out there. He has to be far away though, floating in the sky and breathing with all of his might, because just the proximity to the building must weaken him. There is just so much fucking Kryptonite lying around.

Lex could yell for him to not come closer, to not enter the room, but Clark would do it anyways. The wind stops, and there’s nothing but the pounding rain outside, the girl’s sobs finally quieting. He moves to the door, hoping to catch Clark before he enters, to tell him to go away, but it’s too late. Superman is there the second he blinks, crippling to the floor in agony.

Lex’s eyes widen, feet glued to the floor in panic, and he can’t stop looking at Clark writhing on the ground, suit and hair soaked from the storm outside. It makes him sick because some deep, deep dark part of his mind used to want this to happen, because Clark had hurt him so badly over the years.

Mercy moves in front of him while slipping her gun into the backside of her pants and bends down towards Clark.

“Lex, move. Let’s get him out of here. The rest of you, get out and go home.”

The doctors and the technicians move towards the door, one with his arm wrapped around the girl who had panicked earlier, and they keep looking back, trying to figure out what’s wrong with the Invulnerable Superman.

“ _Lex_.” It’s such a small cry, but Clark sounds like he can barely get the word out, and it finally snaps Lex out of his paralyzed stupor. He bends and scoops Clark up under his armpits while Mercy grabs his legs. He and Mercy are both strong, but Clark is heavy, and they’re moving slowly.

Lex is soaked within seconds, the weight of his wet suit pressing down on him making it harder to move.

“Should we put him in the car?” Mercy yells over the pounding rain. Clark’s limp in his arms now that they’re farther from the building, cape dragging on the rocky concrete, and Lex is sure that he’s passed out.

“No, he needs sun. It will be better when the sun comes out, but just being outside should help.” They move to another warehouse that is still on LexCorp property, protected from the rain from a steel awning above the entrance. He hears the fire trucks and ambulances arrive towards the lab, though their work has been cut out for them.

The rain begins to let up slowly; the roar of the pounding quieting as the sky brightens bit by bit. They move Clark to the uncovered payment, and he lays Clark’s head against his leg after he sits. He runs his fingers through Clark’s hair, worried about what will happen when he wakes up… if he wakes up, and he knows he fucked up.

They are there at least an hour – Lex on the ground with Clark and Mercy standing above them, before Clark finally shifts, slowly opening his eyes and raising his head.

“Lex?”

“Yeah.” He can’t help but smile. Even if this is the end of things between them, Clark is okay, and that’s good enough. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” Clark whispers, closing his eyes and leaning into Lex’s leg. He lies there for a few moments, and Lex can almost see Clark’s skin drinking in the sunlight.

“You’re getting better though.” Lex reaches down and trails his fingers across Clark’s cheek. His skin is warm and silky, and he’s itching to kiss him.

“Yeah.” He opens his eyes again and shifts to look at Lex. “Look, Lex, you can’t –”

“I know, I know. You have to understand that this is going to be a process – I can’t just change over night.

“Besides, LexCorp isn’t everything anymore – I’ve got the Senate seat.” He leans closer, pressing his hand to Clark’s chest. “I’ve got you… at least I hope.”

A small nod from Clark, and that’s all he needs. Lex leans in and gives him a desperate kiss, needing to show him what he almost lost and that he’ll do anything to keep it.

“Can you fly us home?” Lex asks, pressing another kiss against his lips, and Clark gives a small laugh.

“Home?”

“The penthouse? Your apartment? Wherever?”

Clark smiles. “I can do that.”

///  
///

EPILOGUE

 _November of the same year_

“Congratulations, Senator.”

Lex is standing in front of the bathroom mirror when Clark comes up behind him and puts his arms around his waist. Lex’s coat and tie are off, but he’s still in his white dress shirt. He goes to remove the cufflinks when Clark catches Lex’s hands with his own.

“Let me,” Clark whispers, turning Lex around to face him. He pushes the cufflinks out and sets them on the counter. “I knew you’d win. You did so well tonight.”

“Thank you,” Lex replies. He smiles and lifts his face to give Clark a small kiss. Clark’s fingers go to the buttons of Lex’s shirt, and flicks open the first at his collar.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” he manages to get out before yawning. Clark’s hand moves from the shirt to Lex’s groin and cups it softly.

“Too tired?” Clark asks, trying to stifle a grin.

“Mmm, maybe.”

“Maybe?” He presses harder and rubs his palm against Lex’s cock through his pants. Lex doesn’t answer. He just grabs the nape of Clark’s neck and pulls him down for a rough kiss. Clark tastes so good, like he always does, and his tongue slides against his own. Clark’s ministrations are making him hard and he moans softly into Clark’s mouth before biting his bottom lip softly.

Lex pushes his thigh up between Clark’s legs, and presses firmly against his erection. Clark sucks in a breath and moves to press kisses along Lex’s jaw and throat.

“Let me fuck you, Clark,” Lex whispers, grabbing the outline of Clark’s cock through his sweatpants.

“Yes.” Clark’s already shirtless, and Lex runs his palms up and along the planes of his chests, silky skin so good beneath his hands. He moves down farther, reaching into Clark’s sweatpants and grabbing his cock firmly. Clark moans, lips still pressed against Lex’s neck and he gives a small bite of appreciation.

Clark starts working on the shirt again, as Lex walks him backwards into the bedroom. Clark’s knees hit the bed, and he slides his pants off before sitting, hard cock jutting out, the tip wet with pre-come. He slides the shirt off of Lex’s shoulders, and then Clark’s moving his mouth over Lex’s stomach, sucking on the place next to his navel that just turns Lex inside out.

“Clark,” he moans, and Clark slides Lex’s belt off in one fell swoop before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down. Boxers are next, and Clark’s mouth is on Lex’s cock before he even takes his next breath. “Fuck,” he whispers, hands moving in Clark’s hair as he slides his tongue along the underside of Lex’s dick. Warm, wet mouth, and sweet God, slight graze of teeth makes him shudder.

He backs away from Clark, and groans at the absence of that beautiful mouth. Moving to the nightstand, he gets the lube and tosses on the bed. He presses his hand against Clark’s side, motioning for him to flip over and get on his hands and knees. Clark complies while Lex crawls onto the bed behind him, flipping open the bottle’s cap and pouring the lube on his fingers.

“Just do it, Lex.” Lex slicks the oil onto his cock, and presses it against the ring of Clark’s hole. He pushes in slowly, because it might not hurt Clark, but it’s still tight. He bends down, moaning into Clark’s shoulder, and presses open-mouthed kisses to his skin.

“Lex,” he cries as Lex pushes deeper, and Lex reaches around and grips Clark’s cock. He starts moving in and out, matching the rhythm of his hand to the movement of his thrusts. It feels so good and tight, and he’s so fucking happy because he won tonight and Clark is his and this is what he’s always wanted.

Clark’s calling his name like a mantra, spilling onto his hand as he comes, and Lex is so close, almost _there_. Clark’s final moan hits him in the gut, and his orgasm comes in sweet, sweet waves as Clark shivers against his body.

Lex pulls out slowly, and lies down on his side, pulling Clark close to him and kissing him softly. Lex looks back at tonight’s victory party – the entire campaign – and he really can’t imagine getting through the hundreds of speeches and near-sleepless nights without Clark by his side.

“So how does it feel to be a Senator?” Clark asks right before Lex drifts to sleep.

“Mmm, wonderful. Hope it’s like this everyday.”


End file.
